


Skirts & High Heels

by blue_wonderer, Nixie_DeAngel, TheRedHarlequin, Tobyaudax



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Asexual Mick Rory, Barry just loves cute and pretty clothes, Bisexual Barry Allen, Crossdressing, Frottage, Gen, Genderfluid Barry Allen, Genderfluid Character, Hand Job, Heavy Petting, Lingerie, M/M, Mentions of Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Pansexual Leonard Snart, Pre-Relationship, and makeup and being/feeling pretty, vaguely inappropriate use of time-manipulation ability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-24 20:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_wonderer/pseuds/blue_wonderer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/pseuds/Nixie_DeAngel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHarlequin/pseuds/TheRedHarlequin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobyaudax/pseuds/Tobyaudax
Summary: Barry Allen is a regular person who enjoys regular things: musicals, science, getting justice for his parents, wearing pretty skirts, dresses and undergarments and makeup. His hobbies include chemistry, singing, clothes shopping and figuring out how to stop being so damn lonely.A get-together fic involving one genderfluid speedster, one soon-to-be formerly-dead thief and one homoromantic arsonist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Damn. This whole thing started from [a post by @Nixie_DeAngel over on tumblr](https://nixie-deangel.tumblr.com/post/170828725003/coldwestallenwave-for-the-3-hcs-thing). The following, _Iris LOVES to drape Barry in silks and lace_ immediately stood out and I could not get the images out of my head. Not too long after that, @blue_wonderer tagged me in [a post from @TheRedHarlequin](http://a-redharlequin.tumblr.com/post/170910848025/honestly-just-barry-wrapped-up-in-their-clothes) that involved Barry wearing Mick and Len's clothing... and skirts.
> 
> It was all over after that.
> 
> I was also heavily influenced by the absolutely breathtaking series by [Defcon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Defcon/pseuds/Defcon), [Barry in Panties](http://archiveofourown.org/series/565601). It's cute, super sexy and so, so sweet.

It wasn't something he was embarrassed about, at first. Iris and Joe knew, since he'd grown up with them, and they were both supportive about it. Iris more than Joe, but Barry didn't resent his foster dad- Joe never said anything when Barry wore a skirt or dress to meals, nor when he used to do Barry's laundry and found panties mixed in with the briefs and boxers. He sometimes got A Look on his face, but never once told Barry that what he liked to wear was wrong or even asked him to change. The only time they ever talked about it was when Joe told him he would be better off "dressing up" at home and not at school. The other kids wouldn't be as understanding as Joe and Iris, and Barry was already getting bullied so Joe reasoned it was best not to "feed that fire".

Iris encouraged him to do it anyway, especially when she was mad at Joe about something, but Joe's words stayed with him and Barry kept his nice clothing indoors, for the most part. Iris took him along to a birthday party she was invited to (and Barry was not) and he wore one of her nice church dresses. It was a little awkward, having everyone think he was a girl, but the compliments on the outfit and being told how pretty he was made the misunderstanding worth it. And Iris had said he looked "super cute" before they left, so the whole day was remembered as a success.

He supposed he liked wearing "girl's" clothes for a number of reasons- he felt pretty, they were comfortable and sometimes, he could pretend he was someone else. He was only a little ashamed to admit that one of the lesser reasons was that it brought him closer to Iris. Not in any kind of creepy, 'I get to see you undress' way, but in a 'that would look really cute on you' shopping and bonding way. The day that Iris asked him if he wanted to try on her eye make-up and lipstick, he cried, he was so happy. The colors that looked good on Iris, though, didn't always work for Barry, so they both saved enough allowance money to buy Barry his own make-up.

For a long time, up until he graduated college, Barry hoped that their shared interests would bring them closer, towards boyfriend/girlfriend territory, but he never pushed it; never said anything to try to change their relationship. And he discovered, years later, that he was happier with her as his best friend and confidant. He just didn't have other friends, at all, that he could talk to. His roommate during junior year of university was surprisingly accepting of Barry's outfits; Hal came back early one evening and discovered Barry studying for a chemistry exam in a lace-trimmed teddy and faux silk robe. They had an initially fumbling conversation about gender identity and his roommate came out as gay by morning. Barry discovered he was bisexual and they dated until Hal left to join the Air Force.

Once Barry got his job at the precinct, he didn't have a lot of time for dating. He also had to stop painting his nails, as no matter what sealer he used, he risked chemical contamination- a tiny hole in his gloves would be all it took. It didn't help that Joe's talk from his childhood echoed in his head every time he felt an officer's eyes on him. Barry didn't need to do anything else to isolate some of the cops at the CCPD- they were already suspicious of Doc Allen's kid working with them. Which was the whole reason he was there. So Barry threw himself into his work and didn't let himself think about how lonely he was, or how he was so tired at the end of most days that he didn't dress up nearly as often. He was at least able to wear cute panties to work.

Things only got worse after he became the Flash. Despite all his speed, there was never time for the simple pleasure of lounging around his tiny apartment in a skirt, dress or even nightie. He was either fighting another metahuman, at the precinct or training at STAR Labs. When he finally found a moment to breathe, after Eobard was defeated and Eddie had just barely been saved, Barry realized with a delirious laugh that he hadn't painted his nails or put make-up on in over a year. He spent the night with Iris at the hospital, watching over Eddie and painting each other's nails. Barry couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so relaxed.

Getting the hang of his powers and finally clearing his father's name did give Barry more personal time. He visited Iris and Eddie often to help plan the wedding and was relieved that Eddie was so supportive of the camisole and tulip skirt he wore the first day Eddie was out of the hospital. Iris wouldn't have fallen in love with anyone who wasn't a great guy… and Barry wondered if he wasn't a little bit in love with Eddie, too. No one else had ever been so selflessly nice to him and Eddie was both cute and incredibly handsome- a combination Barry had come to realize he was a sucker for. He hadn't thought about dating a guy since Hal and things hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped with Linda (and later Patty). Iris tried to set him up a few times, with guys from Picture News or who she met while working on stories, but no one ever really clicked.

The men in Barry's life were father figures, Cisco and Eddie, and criminals, so he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when he caught himself staring at Cold's ass during a fight. He was both startled and embarrassed that the other man noticed.

"Enjoying the view, Flash?" Cold chuckled, pushing the corner of his parka that had exposed his rear back into place.

"Actually, yeah," Barry replied before his brain could stop his mouth from opening. He mentally and physically face-palmed immediately after. He wasn't worried that Snart would get angry or mock him- the guy was almost non-stop flirting with him… wasn't he? It sounded- and felt- a lot like flirting. Even Cisco had called him out for engaging in the banter- " _Let's keep the verbal sparring away from the bedroom, huh, Barry?_ "

"Not too bad yourself. Real shame I gotta get going- it's lasagna night and Mick's pasta is to die for."

The admission and then non-sequitur into Heatwave cooking were more than enough to distract Barry and let Cold get away. He was still puzzling over what to do with the knowledge of a seemingly mutual attraction when he returned the Flash suit to the Labs. And it was such a personal thing to mention- a dedicated meal between the criminals- that Barry wondered if they weren't partners in another way.

Cisco was staying late, running the numbers on a new program or possibly modding a video game- Barry wasn't sure and didn't bother asking. They stayed up all night eating junk food, bemoaning their non-existent sex lives and around 4 a.m., Barry convinced Cisco to let him paint the engineer's nails.

Barry had told Cisco and then Caitlin about his preferred lounge wear after the former had walked in on one of the rare occasions that Barry was changing clothes at normal speed. He'd recently found a website that specialized in panties and lingerie for men and was wearing a matching satin and lace bralette and panty. Cisco was surprised, but ultimately cool with whatever Barry wanted to wear. "Whatever makes you comfortable, man. You do you." Caitlin had found out after Barry had been hit by a meta, knocked out and needed medical attention; she was only concerned that the lace camisole would chafe him… and she was right.

By the time Iris and Eddie were married and Barry had received the inheritance Eobard left behind (along with a nasty message Barry tried not to think about), he started to wonder why he kept being so concerned about people finding out how he liked to dress. He knew it wouldn't be practical to wear a skirt or dress to work, so he saved all of his outfits for when he got home, weekends and occasionally even running errands. It was the 21st century and he had a right to enjoy himself and dress however he pleased!

He hadn't wanted to accept the absurd amount of money that was willed to him, but his friends and family wore him down with arguments stemming from using the funds for good, getting a really nice apartment and, the one that finally convinced him, Iris suggesting all the ways he could expand his wardrobe. A huge chunk of the inheritance went to charities, orphanages and animal rescues, but there was still more than enough left over to get him a great place equidistant from the precinct and STAR Labs. It was in a quiet neighborhood with an amazing coffee shop on the corner at which he tried to stop in several times a week. The baristas were all college kids and big fans of Barry's various outfits.

One weekend in August, when the temperature hadn't fallen below 90 in more days than he could recall, Barry was waiting for his large, iced mocha with four extra espresso shots and exchanging eye shadow techniques with his favourite barista, Frankie. The bell over the door chimed and the girl glanced up to let whoever had entered know she'd be right with them. Barry was leaning over the counter to get a better look at her phone, one foot idly rubbing over the opposite, bare calf. He was wearing a red halter top and light, silver, tulle skirt that hit just above his knees. He'd decided on a pair of gold, strappy, sandal flats that day, not feeling adventurous enough to try heels in public. The flats exposed his toes, which he'd painted the same fire engine red as his fingernails.

A familiar voice started ordering- a large black coffee, hot (like a crazy person would get) and the same drink Barry was waiting on, minus the extra shots- and an even more familiar one spoke from where the person was standing way closer than personal space allowed.

"Well _this_ is a surprise," Snart practically whispered, near enough that his breath tickled Barry's ear. "And might I add, a very pleasant one."

Barry stood immediately, spine straightening and bringing him in full contact with Snart along his right side. He twisted in place to stare at the older man, but Snart didn't move and they wound up pressed nearly flush together. The color drained from his face at being caught unawares by his… enemy? Nemesis? Barely part-time ally? He had no idea what he and Snart were to each other after the incident ( _understatement, Allen, geez_ ) with Lewis and then the warning Snart had given him last Christmas. He started to say something, anything, but of course the person who had accompanied Snart was none other than Mick Rory.

"Who's your hot little friend," Rory asked, standing almost as close to Snart as Snart was to Barry. Panic flushed through him at the possibility that Snart would reveal his identity.

"This is Barry," Snart replied with a casual tilt of his head. "Mick, Barry. Barry, Mick. He _is_ hot, isn't he."

"Great legs, kid," Mick admitted, letting his eyes drift appreciatively up and down Barry's entirely-too-exposed body and stopping to study the halter that was no doubt darkening with nervous sweat. "Red's a good color on you."

"You should see him blush," Snart purred, managing to lean in even closer. "Why don't you show him, Barry. How pretty you are when you blush."

"Uhm, your drink's ready, Barr." Frankie was holding his beverage out with a slightly shaking hand. "And, uh, are you okay? Are- are these guys bothering you?"

"…What? Oh, my- my drink. My drink, yes!" Barry stammered and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it hanging heavily off the back of his neck. His skin was damp and a little clammy in the shop's air conditioning. "Thanks. I'm- yeah, I'm fine. Everything's… fine, here. Just uh, catching up. With a, uh…"

"An old friend," Snart finished smoothly. "Good seeing you again. _Barr_. We'll have to bump into each other more often."

Barry nodded as he accepted the plastic cup and backed away, but then stopped and shook his head vehemently when Frankie turned back to the other drinks she was making. With one hand and index and middle fingers extended, he pointed to his eyes, then at Snart and Rory, in turn. _I'll be watching you guys; don't try anything_ , he implied. Snart just smirked at him, the one he always used when he thought he had the upper hand (and, honestly, he usually did). Rory outright grinned and waggled his eyebrows, giving Barry another thorough once-over before turning and accepting his ridiculous, hot coffee. Barry rushed out of the shop and back into the wilting, summer heat before Snart could say anything else to trip him up.

On his walk home- a run was out of the question in that outfit, let alone with a beverage and it was _really hot_ \- Barry worried that the encounter would change whatever it was he had with Snart. It certainly wasn't a friendship, though they weren't really enemies anymore; he couldn't remember the last time Snart had seemed like he was even trying to kill him. The attraction that had sprung up out of nowhere a few months, maybe more than a year ago, was mutual. It had to be; with not only the way Snart continued to flirt with him, but also the way he had just… _looked_ at Barry in the coffee shop. And he had stood so close, Barry could smell his aftershave or cologne and feel both the hard and softer lines of his body through his thin shirt and- god, he was really wearing a jacket back there!

 …Rory was still a wildcard, though Barry supposed he was fortunate that the arsonist didn't know his identity. If Snart hadn't told Lisa that Barry was the Flash, the chances were pretty good he wouldn't tell Mick Rory, either. Barry didn't know what to do with the borderline lascivious looks Rory had been giving him. He'd always assumed Heatwave was either asexual or straight- he was such a _guy_ , such a big, macho man! That he could be bi or even gay never really crossed Barry's mind. Admittedly, he mused as he sipped his coffee and waited for the light to change, he hadn't given much thought to Rory when he wasn't avoiding being set on fire.

Both men were on his mind throughout the rest of the day; while he was running the few errands he couldn't avoid any longer, folding his laundry in the cool comfort of his apartment (the place had hook-ups for his own washer and dryer so he could launder his delicates and loungewear in peace) and as he was cooking dinner that evening. Barry ate his grilled cheese, basil and bacon sandwiches in front of the television and a documentary he was only half watching. His thoughts kept drifting to the way Snart had felt, pressed against him and how Rory's eyes on him were like a physical caress. Unless they were making fun of him, they had both seemed _very_ into how he'd looked, the outfit he was wearing.

Alone in his apartment on a Saturday night, Barry allowed himself to preen under the memory of that attention; he had been particularly pleased with the skirt and top he'd picked out that morning, though he realized once he'd dressed that he didn't own silver sandals to match the loose tulle. The gold ones were nice enough and he was able to justify the color to himself by wearing gold, satin boy shorts. He made a mental note to pick up a silver pair of sandals the next time he went shoe shopping with Iris. And if either man had noticed Barry's make-up or nails, they hadn't had time to say anything. _They_ had _to have noticed- my eyes were really poppin' today and that lip color Caitlin told me about looked_ amazing _!_

With a sigh that was entirely too wistful, he reminded himself that Snart and Rory were criminals, that there was no way he could approach them for… what, exactly? A hook-up, a one night stand? Barry had never been able to look at sex so casually. It had taken over two months before he and Hal had slept together, though there was plenty of making out and heavy petting leading up to it. He had to remind himself again, while he brushed his teeth and then un-dressed for bed, that there could be nothing between either he and Snart or he and Rory. They were probably dating or married to each other, anyway. And it was completely ridiculous to imagine that maybe the three of them, even… Barry didn't let himself finish the thought, banishing it with a violent shake of his head. That would be insane.

He wore his cotton boxer briefs and nothing else to bed that night; they were a lot easier to jerk off in than any of his panties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here is a tumblr post with the outfits mentioned in this chapter.](http://tobyaudax.tumblr.com/post/171232189886/so-here-are-the-three-outfits-mentioned-in-chapter) 
> 
> I really just wanted to write a cute story with these guys in an established relationship. Len and Mick enjoy that Barry loves to dress up and mostly cuddles would ensue from there.
> 
> Instead, you get a character study of a genderfluid character who has a healthy support network and his eventual get-together with a pair of walking disasters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snart and Rory have gone missing. In fact, several people haven't been seen around Central and Star in nearly a year...
> 
> Couldn't be aliens- that's a little too zany, even for Team Flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously this is an AU, which means I took great, big liberties with the timeline and various events. Flashpoint doesn't happen here and Henry wasn't killed at the end of Flash season 2 (because that was just mean, okay?). The only person between Teams Flash or Arrow that knows about the Legends, in general, is Oliver. He was still recruited by Nate to find the Waverider at the beginning of LoT season 2. There’s nothing that really contradicts that in this fic, though it might seem like at first. I'll address that in the end notes.
> 
> LoT follows the same general time line, exempting one or two things that will come up in this chapter and going forward, but the crew and what they’ve been through are basically the same leading up to this chapter.
> 
> [Please to enjoy this beautiful fanart](http://sparroet.tumblr.com/post/171294137319/some-art-for-tobyaudaxs-fic-skirts-high-heels) by the supremely talented [sparroet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparroet/profile)!

Snart and Rory kept low profiles for several months after the incident at the coffee shop. Barry was worried Snart was planning something big and kept his eyes and ears open for any major exhibits coming to or events occurring in and around Central. But when nearly a year passed with no sign of his, well, his favourite criminals, Barry started to worry more. Snart had taken on the Santini family not too long ago and the mob had a long memory. Maybe they'd gone after him and taken both Snart and Rory out. He tried to think of a casual way to ask Joe or Eddie if they had any CIs associated with the Santinis that might know anything.

Despite missing the banter and quick, admiring glances, Barry was forced to admit that both of his jobs were easier with Snart laying low and taking Rory with him. There was the usual parade of metahumans to deal with, the insanity that was Earth-2 (and the fact that there were other realities/universes, in general) and Snart's other Rogues didn't stay idle for too long in their boss's absence. So Barry stayed busy and tried to keep his thoughts away from Snart and Rory… and what could never happen between them. It helped to keep them at a distance, using only their last names or Cisco's nicknames. He didn't let himself use their first names in even his most private moments; in his fantasies- of which there were far too many- they were always "Snart and Rory" or "Cold and Heatwave". He wouldn't admit, even to himself, that it was getting awkward, moaning the last names of men he'd imagined getting _very_ intimate with, both separately  _and_ together.

Caitlin pointed out, one day, that she hadn't heard from Martin Stein or Jax in several months. This prompted a round table of people they kept in casual contact with who had seemingly gone missing. Cisco came up with Kendra Saunders and Ray Palmer, the latter of whom motivated Barry to call Oliver and ask if anyone in or around Star hadn't been seen in a while. Sara Lance had disappeared, as well, though Oliver admitted that that wasn't too unusual, given everything she'd been through.

"So we've got Palmer, Kendra and Carter, as they're probably a package deal, Dr. Stein and Jax and Sara Lance," Cisco recited as he wrote each name on the clear board he'd dragged into the Cortex.

"And Cold and Heatwave," Barry added quietly. He shrugged when Cisco shot him a quizzical look. "You guys have to have noticed how quiet it's been the last several months."

"Okay, but they're probably not related to… whatever is going on with everyone else we know." Cisco sighed and dropped the marker onto the tray attached to the board. He fell back into his chair and spun around a few times, staring up at the ceiling. "Hell, we don't know if any of the, what, disappearances? are related to each other, either!"

The trio stayed late at the Labs, spit-balling theories as to what could have happened to their friends, acquaintances and whatever Snart and Rory were. The most probable explanation, Barry reasoned around 3 a.m., was aliens.

"Seriously- they could've all been abducted at the same time and are, I dunno, being experimented on or worse!"

"I think we'd notice if there were aliens flying around Central and Star, Barry," Caitlin yawned. "Things like that usually come after us, first. And if you suggest _anything_ supernatural, I'm hiding all the nail polish you keep here. Let's call it a night- er, morning, and regroup after some rest."

They didn't get a chance to discuss non-paranormal hypotheses, as an actual alien invasion happened the following afternoon. Barry was both terrified and elated- if there were aliens in his universe, what else was possible? He had hoped, when he first witnessed the ship land (crash), that people like Kara would be inside, but the invaders had quickly proven themselves hostile. It was easier than he thought not to say "I told you so" when he got back to the Labs. But the surprises didn't stop there- they received a coded transmission that took the combined forces of Cisco and Felicity (who was called in when Cisco grew too frustrated) to decrypt. And it was from Sara Lance, who, apparently, had become the captain of a time ship.

Sara and her crew had run afoul of the aliens in their journeys and wanted to meet with both Teams Flash and Arrow to determine the best course of action. Barry had Felicity respond to the time travelers (something Team Flash had not considered for their allies' disappearances) that they could meet at the old Ferris Air hanger and he was proud of himself for not choking up at the memories of Hal and his accident there.

The group that arrived in the futuristic ship was mostly expected- Kendra was absent, with two strangers taking up her and Carter's places- but Barry couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open when Cold and Heatwave exited the ship last. He did manage to stay put, not racing over to them and demanding answers (asking if they were okay. If they were actual heroes, now), but that was mostly due to the fact that he was kind of in shock.

The rest of his team and Oliver's were just as surprised and Ollie went so far as to raise his bow and reach for an arrow before Sara and Ray Palmer leapt to the (former?) criminals' defenses. Barry listened, in awe, with everyone else while Sara and Snart provided the Cliff's Notes version of how the "Legends" had formed and what they'd been doing. Vandal Savage had been defeated and the very fabric of the universe saved, the latter of which done nearly "single-handedly" by Leonard Snart.

"-and then I died," Snart said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. Like he wasn't a hero.

"Lemme guess," Cisco jumped in after the pause went on too long. "You got better."

Snart outright grinned and touched the top of his nose. While he and Sara were telling the Legends' tale- sometimes completing each other's sentences and making Barry irrationally jealous- Barry had moved closer to the Rogue. He noticed that Rory was never more than a few inches away from Snart and far more stoic and restrained than Barry had ever seen him. His eyes never left Snart for more than a second- long enough to glance around the large, open room and, once, at Barry. That brief look stretched out into minutes for Barry and if he didn't have his speed, he would have missed the sea of emotion locked behind those eyes. Either Snart's death and subsequent resurrection had had a much bigger affect on Rory (and Barry added another notch to the "they're married" column in his head), or something truly awful had happened to him, as well. Barry wanted- needed- to know what wasn't being said between them.

But they had alien invaders to fight and a president to save, first. Deeming everyone present "bad enough dudes" for the task, Cisco took Barry to retrieve Kara from her earth, delighting in their turn at being able to surprise everyone assembled. There was a verbal scuffle for leadership between Ollie and Snart that Barry tried his best not to find ridiculously hot, though he had to backburner his libido when he ended up being voted as in-charge.

"You did run into them, first," Ray pointed out. "Well, chronologically. Technically, we knew about the Dominators before you guys-"

"Semantics, Raymond." Snart waved a hand, moving to stand to Barry's left (with Rory beside him, on Snart's left), as Ollie had already put in his support and taken up Barry's right side. "Barry's an excellent choice."

Unfortunately, Barry being the leader just meant that both Ollie and Snart argued over and around him. Oliver made suggestions and attempted to guide Barry, letting him pull together a plan that best utilized everyone's strengths. Snart had snide comments for nearly everything Ollie contributed and Barry had to beg his friend to take a walk and calm down- more for the sake of Snart's continued existence, really. And when Ollie finally stepped away, Snart filled his space.

"Been too long, Barry," Snart said quietly at his shoulder where they were leaning over a blueprint and document-covered table. "Thought about you. The way you looked in that coffee shop. Got me through some long stretches in the temporal zone."

Barry had just started processing Snart's words, the implication and, _god_ , the blatant desire behind them when Snart finally removed his gloves and set them on the table. His left hand looked as Barry remembered it (there had been many fantasies and daydreams about those hands- they were _very_ nice hands). It was the right one that made him stare longer than usual; the palm, back and fingers were the same shape, same size as the left, but instead of skin, the appendage was covered in a translucent, softly glowing substance or material. Barry could even make out the faint outline of his bones underneath.

"Looks like I was right about that being your color, Red," Rory whispered from Barry's other side, making him jump and then back into Snart, whose hands landed on his hips to steady him… and stayed there.

"Is that, uh, that so?" Barry replied after clearing his throat. "Maybe… Maybe I thought about you, too. Both of you."

Snart's- Leonard? He'd saved the world, the universe! Surely they could be on a first-name basis, now- hands drifted up, slipping under Barry's shirt and sweater. The right hand was just as warm as the left and still felt like skin, but there was an energy in it, now. Something that almost pulled at the energy, the speed force, inside Barry. Long fingers fanned out over his stomach, then moved up to his chest where they encountered the lace trim on Barry's bra. Leonard hummed, the sound approving, and he traced the material around to Barry's back. Barry wanted to melt into those hands; he hadn't been touched so intimately in far too long! Through the warm haze Leonard's caresses induced, Barry felt Rory's hands on his waist, the rough fingers of his scarred right hand dipping below his jeans and rubbing the lace of his panties between index and thumb.

"What color is it, Barry?" Leonard whispered into the shell of his ear, teeth catching on the lobe and making Barry shudder. "Are you wearing red panties, a pretty red bra?"

" _Yes_ ," Barry husked, voice already hoarse. His hips bucked forward into Rory's big palms. "Red and silk. …I missed you." He tensed under both sets of hands after the admission, worried they would stop and just walk away.

Rory made a noise somewhere between a hum and a growl, but it sounded good, pleased, so Barry relaxed back into Leonard's hands. One had made it high on his back, between his shoulder blades and resting on the clasp of the bra, and the other journeyed down and slipped between the panties and Barry's now-fevered skin, palm cupping his ass and fingers starting to spread. Barry moaned, and then choked on the sound when the knuckles of Rory's scared hand scraped gently against his silk-clad, half-hard erection. His eyes had closed at one point and Barry startled, looking around in a panic at being caught in public, in such a compromising position between two men who at least used to be his enemies.

"Don't worry about it," Leonard whispered in his other ear, licking and then biting that lobe gently until Barry gave another full body shudder. "I picked up a few new tricks, scattered around the time stream…"

Rory chuckled at the baffled look on Barry's face and Barry had to blink several times, at super speed, to try to clear his head and the strange, blue haze that surrounded him. Except his blinking happened at regular speed and the fog that was drifting lazily around him was around Leonard and Rory, too. He twisted his neck to catch Leonard's eye, ask him what was happening, but the older man beat him to it.

"Only been four seconds since I laid my hands on you," Leonard explained, resting his chin on Barry's shoulder. "I can make this last _hours_ and no one will see a thing- time's passing for them, but it's basically… frozen for us."

"Ah, that was awful, Lenny," Rory groaned. Barry supposed he was cleared to finally think of him as "Mick", since the other man's hand was still down his pants. And he was tempted to switch over to "Lenny", as well, even though he'd only ever heard Lisa say it before. Barry was reminded of when he'd helped Leonard against Lewis; how he'd thought he was clever, using the familiar nickname. But the brief, alarmed look on Leonard's face had immediately let him know he'd overstepped some line, was _too_ familiar, and that Lewis was possibly seeing more between them than was there. At the time.

"Even for you," Barry agreed with a breathy laugh. "How- how long? Have you done this- oh, god- before?"

Barry's hips thrust forward when Mick turned his hand around and palmed him through the dampening silk. Leonard didn't answer right away, his mouth busy kissing and sucking bruises onto Barry's neck. When he finally pulled away an inch, breathing heavily against the wet skin, Leonard replied, "Kind of lost track after the third one."

"Three hours? Do- I dunno if-"

"Three _days_ , Barry."

"Ohmygod," Barry groaned. The sound stretched out into a whine as Mick pulled his hand free and then took half a step back, letting Barry go entirely to cross his arms over his chest. Barry wondered if he was watching the flex of Mick's forearms, biceps and chest in slow motion or if Leonard was slowing time within their little bubble to make the motion last.

Leonard moved away next, leaving a cold, empty feeling surrounding Barry. He managed to bite back a whimper at the loss of body heat and simultaneously soothing and electrifying touches.

"Got a little carried away," Leonard sighed. He moved around Barry to stand next to Mick, both studying him with an intensity Barry had never witnessed in anyone before. His right hand was lit up with the same swirling, smoke-like light that surrounded them. "While your responses have been… more than enthusiastic, that's not consent. And we have slightly more important things to focus-"

"Yes!" Barry shouted, counting on the time fog to keep them locked in the moment. "I mean- I'm totally on-board for… whatever you guys are- basically whatever you want. This is me, consenting to- all of that, more of that." He waved a hand to encompass what they'd been doing, dropping it on the side of his neck and shivering at the still-damp skin under his sweaty palm.

"Probably shouldn't have our first time in a fuckin' hanger, either," Mick chuckled.

"That too." Leonard agreed, though he eyed the card table with regret.

Barry sighed, nodded and leaned back against the table, bracing himself with both arms. "I, uh, should probably…" He glanced down, guilty, at the bulge straining his jeans. "I need to take care of this and then we'll, uhm, get back to planning, I guess."

"You want an audience or were you planning on changing clothes, after." Leonard sounded a strange combination of bored and hopeful at the prospect.

It was incredibly tempting, having Mick and Leonard watch him jerk off. Barry ran a hand over himself, biting his lip as he imagined the way their eyes would dart between his hands and his face, drinking in the silk and lace of his panties. But they were both right about having more important things to take care of and the unsanitary nature of any sexual activity in the long-since-abandoned space. That, and Barry had quite a few outfits he wanted their opinions on.

Barry shook his head with another sigh, indicating he was going elsewhere to rub one out. Leonard heaved an exaggerated shrug and lowered the shield? Time bubble? with a flick of his right wrist. The blue haze dissipated and before anyone could glance over at them or say anything, Barry took off, wincing at the feel of damp silk as he ran back to his apartment. He'd never finished so quickly in his life, not even when he was still living with Joe and feared being walked-in on. He changed into a black, satin camisole and matching high-waist briefs with an intricate lace panel on the front. He knew he'd have to change out of them once he had to put the Flash suit on and made another mental note to talk to Cisco about creating some cute things he could safely and comfortably wear under his costume.

Barry threw on the clothes he'd left in, not wanting to arouse more suspicion than his hasty exit already had, and rushed back to Ferris Air- home to one of the worst and now best decisions of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Oliver knew Mick was with the Legends because he helped Nate find him in the Waverider. What makes him draw his bow, here, is seeing Snart, who he was led to believe was dead. From what I know about Oliver, he's going to be even more on-guard when something unexpected happens. And he's already pretty high-strung (ah, jesus) from learning about aliens and time travel.
> 
> If you read this on tumblr already, you will likely notice some minor additions. I did not include any details about Len's hand when this was originally posted because I only intended this story to be about four chapters long. But it grew a bigger plot and more moving pieces than I expected and I realized after _yet another_ read through, that I should include more.
> 
> Future chapters will/should go into some detail about what happened with and between Mick and Len, so I won't say anything else here. But please feel free to start conversations either in the comments here or over on [my dumb tumblr. Dumblr lol](http://tobyaudax.tumblr.com).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The world is safe once again thanks to- what? They're leaving? Oh, okay._  
> 
> Barry's on his own again and uses the time to ruminate (and maybe mope a little).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of angst here, but nothing devastating, I promise!
> 
> This chapter is pretty much pure introspection. And continues the divergence from the actual Dominator crossover story line. I would like to note, in case anyone was wondering, that Iris is not currently with the rest of Team Flash at the hanger and during this crisis. Also, Wally got his powers at the same time as Jesse did in season 2 and has been training ever since.  
> ...I goofed in not including that in this story and I'm sorry!

Things could have gone better, all around. Whenever someone brought up needing more time to plan, or simply "more time" in general, Barry glared at Leonard. He started to tell the team that they could likely have as much time as they needed, if Leonard would just tell everyone about his ability. But when he stepped forward, finger raised and mouth open, Barry found himself in another fog with Leonard and Mick. While Leonard could stretch out a handful of seconds for a very long time, doing so around more than two people- at most, three- would be too great a strain. And since his focus would be on maintaining the bubble around so many people, he wouldn't be able to contribute to any planning, which Barry had to admit would be a detriment. Leonard was easily one of the best strategists at their disposal.

So the argument fizzled out and Barry, Mick and Leonard re-joined the urgent conversation with the remaining, non-brainwashed members of their teams. They managed to cobble together a plan in the secret room in STAR Labs and all worked surprisingly well together against the further threats the Dominators threw at them. Barry was disheartened to learn the sole reason the aliens even came to their Earth was because of him and the potential danger he posed to the timeline. The only thing Leonard and Oliver were able to agree on was that they weren't going to let Barry give himself up.

His sacrifice was ultimately unnecessary as Firestorm was able to transmute the Dominator's bomb while Dr. Stein's daughter, Lily, completed nano devices that, when placed on the aliens, would cause a feedback painful enough to force them off-planet ( _Did Stein always have a daughter?_ Barry found himself wondering as he ran around the country, tagging Dominators with the nano gadgets. _He never talked about her…_ ). All told, Barry was baffled the whole thing worked out as well as it did. He was upset that they were unable to save the president- there was no consolation to be found for his mistake in trying to talk the aliens down.

Barry stayed near the back of the hanger while the new president made her speech and handed out medals. Cisco stepped in for the CCPD Metahuman Taskforce to accept on behalf of the Flash, who he said sent his thanks and condolences. Barry could've easily changed in and out of the Flash suit to collect the medal, himself, but he didn't feel he'd done anything to earn it. If Cisco wouldn’t keep it, Barry was just going to leave it in a drawer somewhere and try to forget about it.

It did lighten his mood to see Mick and Leonard receive medals, to the confusion of the president and her security. Both men only had eyes for Barry, though, the entire time they stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the heroes. And wasn't that kind of what he'd wanted for the past couple years? For Leonard Snart- and now Mick Rory, as well- to see that they were far better men than they'd let themselves believe? He hoped their actions would be more permanent than their stay on the Waverider.

The thought was a sobering one and Barry made his way through the sparse crowd to greet the criminals-turned-heroes as they left the stage. They'd been through so much in such a short amount of time that Barry felt closer to them than he expected; he stopped himself from hugging them by sticking out both hands for a friendly shake and "congratulations". Mick enveloped his hand slowly, wrapping each large finger around the back of Barry's hand before pumping his arm vigorously. Leonard, being the dramatic asshole that he was, used his time fog to get his arms around Barry, dip him and kiss him in a parody of [ the sailor and dental assistant from the famous World War II photo](https://nypost.com/2012/06/17/the-true-story-behind-the-iconic-v-j-day-sailor-and-nurse-smooch). (Barry was just glad his face was obscured by the hood of Len's parka when the photo was published in Picture News the next day. …Otherwise, it was a really, _really_ great kiss.)

Oliver pulled him aside before heading back to Star City, reminding Barry to be careful around his 'villains' and giving him an almost brotherly talk about trust and how some people don't change. Barry wasn't sure if he was referring to Leonard's kiss or if he somehow knew what Barry, Mick and Leonard had started a day (or was it a couple days, now?) ago. Oliver was really good at knowing things about Barry he shouldn't have. But Barry appreciated his friend's concern and told him as such before wishing him well; he hoped the next time they got together, it wouldn't be because the world needed saving. He almost asked Oliver out for a drink, for a few hours where they could unwind and catch up properly, but he didn't know if or how soon Leonard and Mick would be leaving. Seeing Ollie again was going to be way easier than getting a hold of his favourite Legends.

Unfortunately, when Sara and her crew filed back into the Waverider, Mick and Leonard went with them, once again bringing up the rear. Barry watched them leave, a heaviness in his chest and a twisting, empty sensation in his stomach. He should have known better than to think the little time they'd had together would convince them to stick around longer. He wasn't sure either of them had even checked in on Lisa. He didn't feel good about himself that he took comfort in that thought.

Team Arrow made their way back to Star City and Barry helped Cisco, Caitlin and Wally pack up their gear. He and Wally ran back to the Labs in costume while Cisco and Caitlin drove the van. Wally kept up a steady banter while he and Barry changed out of their suits, showered and then dressed. It was technically his first mission, his first time in the field, and Barry was happy he'd not only done so well, but had had a good time, despite the circumstances and less-than-fully-positive outcome. Wally, like the rest of the West family, didn't mind Barry's off-duty clothing choices at all. He was more than happy to have his own nails painted and hang around for a little while when Barry, Iris and Caitlin had their "girl's nights". Though Wally drew the understandable line at listening to Iris talk about her and Eddie's sex life.

Barry had changed back into his black satin cami and high-waist panties, a little disappointed that he hadn't thought to pack a cute outfit to wear instead of his "work clothes". It would have been too difficult to run back to his apartment in a skirt, anyway, he told himself. Wally wanted to hang out the rest of the afternoon, but Barry declined, citing a desire to just go back to his place and be alone for a little while. His brother said he understood, but Barry immediately felt bad when Wally's smile faltered and his shoulders sagged. But Cisco and Caitlin arrived by then, so Barry left Wally with his friends, biding them all a curt farewell and rushing back to his empty home.

He took a longer route to his apartment, moving just fast enough to not be seen but slow enough to keep his clothes and shoes from smoldering. Barry undressed down to his lingerie, threw one of his silk robes on and wandered into the kitchen to put some snacks together. He didn't feel like making a meal and still had plenty of Cisco's calorie bars around, anyway. Nothing held his attention on television and he'd already read all the magazines on the coffee table. He found himself in the guest room he, Iris and Eddie had converted into a huge closet and idly began sorting his outfits by color, then by season. He didn't notice the tears until a few drops stained the steel blue, satin chemise he was holding.

"Thank god for waterproof mascara," he chuckled wetly, wiping the moisture away delicately with his fingertips. Barry dropped the nightie on the floor and shuffled over to his bedroom, flopping face down onto the floral comforter. He knew what the problem was, he just didn't want to have to admit to it. His phone chimed from the kitchen, but he didn't feel like getting up to look at the text. If it was important, they'd call. It certainly wouldn't be either of the people he wanted to hear from most at the moment.

Barry sniffled and pulled a pillow down to smothering his face in. He wasn't going to cry over two men who were likely only interested in him as a fetish. Hadn't Snart only made a move when he'd seen Barry dressed up? And Rory had never looked at him twice when they were fighting before! His phone went off again, several times and Barry got up to shut his door. Wally and Cisco could handle things for a couple hours, if there was even a metahuman emergency. Leaning against the threshold, he decided to take a bath and call it an early night- he hadn't gotten much rest while they were fighting the Dominators.

While the large bathtub filled up, Barry examined his collection of bath bombs, choosing one that resembled a geode. It would fizz and glitter in the warm water and he sighed just thinking about how good it would feel- he hadn't taken a relaxing bath in what felt like ages. He stood in his bedroom, just outside the bath, and studied his reflection in the full-length mirror; he'd only put on a little mascara and eyeliner and a nude, pink lip gloss before leaving the Labs. Barry sighed again, the sound heavy and more forlorn than he thought he felt. He ran his hands down his sides, turned from one side to the other, and couldn't help wondering if Leonard and Mick would like the black lingerie.

He turned away from the mirror with a scowl and checked the tub, adjusted the water temperature. The only bad thing about taking a bath was waiting for the tub to fill. He used a makeup remover cloth and scrubbed at his face hard enough to redden the skin and make his eyes sore. Barry half-marched back into his bedroom and dug around in the closet, pulling out a box littered with dust bunnies. Moving to sit in the doorway into the bathroom so he could keep an eye on the water level, he blew the dust off the lid of the shoe box and set it aside. Inside was the first pair of heels he'd owned, purchased with Iris when he'd graduated college as both a celebration and to cheer him up after Hal left. Barry grinned ruefully at the memory and pulled one of the stilettos out of the tissue paper he'd re-wrapped them in.

When he wore heels, he usually stuck with ones no taller than two inches, and those were only for when he went out with his friends to the occasional club or bar. His daily dress-up shoes were mostly flats, with several pairs of one-inch or shorter heels mixed in. The brilliant red, patent leather stilettos in front of him were three inches and he'd only worn them twice- the day he'd graduated and for Iris and Eddie's wedding reception. He ran a thumb fondly over the tall heel support and traced the thinner straps on the front. That was why he liked to dress up, why he enjoyed his pretty clothes- because his outfits and shoes and make-up made him feel good, confidant. A cute set of lingerie or pretty dress did more for his self-esteem than any of the powers he got once he became the Flash.

Barry put the shoe gently back in the box and set it aside, pushing off the floor and into the bathroom for his much-needed soak. He dropped the glitter bomb in and watched with rapt attention as it dissolved and spread a soft rainbow of color across the water. The steam drifting into his bedroom was suffused with the scents of warm amber and honey and Barry quickly stripped out of his briefs and half-cami to slide into the hot water with an appreciative groan. He really had to take baths more often! He stayed in the tub until the water started to cool and he felt more relaxed than he had in months.

As the tub drained, he turned the shower on for a quick rinse, not wanting to lose all of the sheen of glitter from the bomb. He dried off as he left the bathroom and flipped on the overhead fan to clear the remaining steam, stopping in front of his dresser to dig out a new lace-trimmed camisole and loose boy shorts to sleep in. The set was cream-colored and dotted with pastel flowers- just the thing to help him further unwind. He dressed and then eyed his bed, not yet tired enough to sleep. He was physically relaxed, muscles loose and the good kind of rubbery, but his mind was still racing, still skittering around thoughts of Leonard- of Len, Barry smirked at the nickname- and Mick. He turned the fan off and opened his door, deciding to let his mind unravel in front of the TV.

He and Iris had been watching a series about people picking out wedding gowns and Barry skipped back a few episodes so he wouldn't get ahead and incur his best friend's wrath. He'd thought about getting married a lot over the years, but he hadn't been able to decide if he would wear a tuxedo or a beautiful dress. He let his thoughts wander, conjuring up images of Iris helping him pick out a gown straight from a fairy tale. Joe and Henry would both walk him down the aisle and standing at the end of the rose-petal strewn carpet was every person he'd ever had a crush on. Barry threw his head back and covered his face, giggling at the image of Linda and Patty in tuxedos. But he sobered when he thought of Hal and how painfully handsome he would look with a teal bowtie and a suit so dark green, it looked black. Hal had always looked stunning in green.

It wasn't a surprising transition for the camera in his mind to pan over to Len and Mick, both immaculate and devastatingly beautiful in navy and burgundy tuxes. Len had a cream-colored rose pinned to his lapel and Mick's was blood red. Barry groaned and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, rolling onto his side on the couch and curling up into a ball. He had to meet someone, had to put his past behind him and move on from something- someones- that would never be. He resolved to sign up for the dating app Eddie had told him about at the last family dinner- it was a step in the right direction. Barry was tired of being lonely.

Decision made, he was able to enjoy the next couple episodes and gorgeous dresses in relative mental peace. Though he didn't know when he fell asleep, a soft sound from his bedroom startled him awake. Barry fumbled with the remote and turned the TV off as he slowly stood, dropping it on the sofa to make as little noise as possible. He approached the room carefully, straining to hear the sound again and preparing to defend himself, if need be, without his speed. He wished he had a baseball bat or something threatening; though an intruder was likely to underestimate a skinny guy wearing lingerie. He stopped outside the threshold and waited nearly a minute, but it was silent in his bedroom.

Barry took a deep breath and spun around the doorframe, reaching out to flip the light switch on and bringing his hands up in the fighting stance Eddie had taught him. He blinked in the brighter light and then in stunned surprise at the people who had broken into his apartment and were lounging on his queen-sized bed. Len was propped up on a mountain of pillows on Barry's side of the bed with Mick on the right. Len had stretched out like some great cat, arms behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles. His right hand was hidden, but the faint glow it gave off lit him up from behind, creating strange shadows on his face. Mick was on his side, one arm holding his head up and the other resting with comfortable familiarity low on Len's stomach.

While their presence was jarring enough- Barry had watched the Waverider take off and disappear back into the timestream hours ago- their attire had his jaw practically unhinged where it hung open. Len was wearing only a ribbed tank top in gunmetal grey, rucked up to reveal the soft lines of his midsection, and a blue plaid kilt. His legs and feet were bare. Mick was similarly attired, but his kilt was red and black and he wasn't wearing a shirt of any kind- the burns along his right side looked even starker against Barry's comforter and under the slowly dimming overhead light. Barry closed his mouth, licked his lips and tried to think of something to say.

"I really like your skirts," he blurted. His eyes widened and he slapped a hand, too late, over his mouth.

"You were right," Mick chuckled, running his hand lazily up and under Len's top. "He's got a real pretty blush."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, I wasn’t undercutting Oliver’s expertise at the beginning of this chapter. If anyone was thinking that. Because while Oliver’s really good at what he does, Len’s been in the planning and strategy business longer. But they each have different methods and perspectives, which means they have their own strengths and weaknesses, as well.
> 
> A lot of this chapter wasn’t planned, it just kind of happened as a reaction to how events unfolded. That, and I wanted to give Barry a little boost, after everything he had to deal with. I felt like it was a good idea to reiterate that he dresses up for himself, first. I haven’t really read many fics that involve this, but I know crossdressing can be seen as a fetish and something that’s mostly sexual. And while there is _nothing wrong at all_ with dressing up for sexy reasons, that isn’t what I feel this version of Barry is doing. Does he feel sexy when he puts on lingerie or a pretty outfit? Sometimes, sure. But that was never the original purpose.
> 
> And as far as I got and continue to get away from canon (it’s a fanwork- that’s what these do), I wanted to keep that core of Barry needing people. He does need to be on his own, once in a while, but he gets lonely. He wants a partner (or two *eyebrow waggle*), he wants someone he can lavish love and attention on. He wants to get married. I don’t know if it’s on Netflix, but my sister likes “Say Yes to the Dress”, which is the show I referenced Barry and Iris watching. :) 
> 
> Oh, and the light dimming at the end is because it’s an energy saving bulb. The ones I use, at least, turn on pretty bright, then gradually dim to a more comfortable level. …I don’t know why I keep writing things that feel like they need explanations.
> 
> And finally! [Here are some images of the three outfits/articles mentioned in this chapter](http://tobyaudax.tumblr.com/post/171393914881/making-a-separate-post-for-the-three-articles). The camisole/bra top for the black set of lingerie doesn't have cups in the story, because Barry has been getting a lot of his outfits from specialty on-line shops that make clothes for male bodies.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and putting up with my notes!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some trade secrets revealed, a bruised heart on the mend and I'm pretty sure that's not how time travel works.

Of _course_ Barry knew what kilts were; he'd seen and read about them before, though never actually worn one. Why on earth his dumb brain hadn't stopped his stupid mouth from calling what Len and Mick were wearing "skirts", he wasn't sure. The only thing he knew was that he was going to spend the rest of his life hiding his face behind his hands and hope for the best. He heard movement, the rustling of fabric and then soft footsteps on the rug beside his bed. Curiosity made him peek between his fingers and he watched Len close the distance between them and reach out to take his hands.

"What are you even doing here?" Barry asked between his fingers. "Shouldn't you guys be out preserving the timeline?"

Len's sigh tickled the backs of Barry's hands and warm fingers closed gently over his wrists, tugging his arms down and exposing his face again. Barry put up a token resistance, but he eventually let Len pull his hands away. He watched the gentle pulse and glow of Len's right hand, his eyes fixed on the place further up his arm where soft radiance met warm skin. It didn't help the situation that Mick had called any part of him "pretty"; Barry was such a sucker for that word.

"It is the same day we left, isn't it? I haven't calculated wrong, yet." Len moved his grip to Barry's fingers, holding Barry's hands in both of his and rubbing circles with his thumbs. The energy he'd felt before in Len's right hand remained and caused tiny sparks to skitter over his skin wherever they touched.

"Uhm, yeah? But you still left-." Barry cut himself off with a scowl. He'd just resolved himself to letting them go, moving on with his life, and then they went and broke into his life again- and his apartment for, presumably, the first time.

"Told you he wouldn't get it," Mick chuckled from the bed. Len shot him a glare over his shoulder before returning his attention to Barry.

"…Wouldn't get what?" Barry asked, suspicious. "Did you guys do something? Did you mess with the timeline!? That's, like, the number one rule of time travel-!" Barry had both accidentally and on-purpose traveled back in time; while most of the changes he'd made were for the best, he'd still made a mess of some things. He'd learned the hard way that it was always best to let things unfold the way they were meant to, the way they were supposed to.

"Barry, relax." Len drew out the last syllable as he resumed his hand massage. "We've done more… good than bad to the timeline- all of the Legends have. What Mick-" The other man's name was spoken like a reprimand. "-is referring to is a little complicated. To say the least. Wouldn't you rather catch up, first?"

The distinctly hopeful note in Len's question almost swayed Barry. He even started to lean forward, prompting Len to take a step back towards the bed. But Barry couldn't just forget that, not only did he barely know either of them, but they had left without even saying good-bye. He huffed in frustration and shook his hands free from Len's, planting them on his hips and putting on what Iris liked to call his Serious Barry face.

"Okay. You can't just show up after going missing for a year, feel me up in a hanger, help save the world and then disappear  _again_  and think that's grounds for… anything to happen between us!"

"He doesn't remember, Lenny. Hasn't even happened for him, yet."

"Time works differently for speedsters," Len replied dismissively, ignoring Barry and further pissing him off. "He'll remember." He looked at Barry again with his trademark shitty smirk and actually winked. "You'll remember- just give it a little… time."

"No! I'm not giving  _anything_  more time and you guys are going to explain yourselves and stop talking like I'm not standing right here!"

"Oh, we see you, Red. Cute undies." Mick waggled his eyebrows from his position on the bed. His hand was even still resting on the place Len had vacated.

"Don't try to distract me, Rory." Barry held up a hand and raised a finger for each point, "What are you guys doing back here. What do you mean by all this 'remembering' stuff. And  _why-_  are you here?" He didn't ask why they left him; he just managed to just stop himself from demanding to know why they didn't see fit to say their farewells. He refused to be that desperate.

"Thought the last one was pretty obvious," Mick chuckled and palmed himself through the kilt. Len rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue.

"Not really the moment for that, Mick."

"Hey-  _you're_  the one who couldn't be bothered to plan for him not knowing what happened. So how 'bout you just sit your ass back on this bed and answer the kid's questions."

Barry was on the verge of flashing over to Mick and hauling him against a wall, but was stopped by both the rather commanding tone he'd used with Len and the fact that Mick wasn't wearing a shirt and would therefore be more difficult to manhandle. Even more surprising than Mick ordering him around was Len turning on his heel and practically flouncing back to the bed, planting himself on the edge with a flurry of fabric, disgruntled huff and an unmistakable pout. He even started to cross his arms over his chest, but Mick lunged forward and snaked an arm around his waist, dragging him further onto the bed and then Mick's lap.

"Now," Mick said patiently, like he was talking to a child. "What are we doing back here, Lenny?"

Len continued to pout for a few more seconds, but finally heaved a loud, long-suffering sigh. "We came to see _you_ , Barry. I did think that much was obvious. And though Mick put it a little bluntly, our reason 'why' is to continue what we started earlier."

Barry moved further into the room, but stepped sideways to lean against his vanity table. He ran a hand over his makeup brushes as he considered what Len had told him. "Okay, I'll give you guys that- you're not exactly being subtle. But you're gonna have to be more specific about the other thing."

"Far as you know, we've only been gone a handful of hours- rest of the day, tops," Mick began, arranging Len and then his kilt more comfortably on top of him. "S'been about two years for us. Figured it'd be too mean t'make you wait that long, so Lenny and I did the math and got back here as close to when we left as we could."

"You took the Waverider for a _booty call?!_ " Barry was more aghast than flattered.

"Pfft, no. 'Rider's got a jumpship for stuff like this. But," Mick raised a hand when Barry started to interrupt. "We didn't take that, either. Lenny got us here through his connection to the timestream. We told the Capn' we were takin' shore leave an’ here we are."

Len spread his arms to indicate both of them and finally settled back onto Mick. He took his turn and picked up the story. "Like I said, time works differently for speedsters. You told us that, yourself, when we ran into you. In 2036. We were still tracking down Savage, then, and weren't as… discreet as I like to be. You- the future you, that is- showed up and were  _very_  happy to see us."

"Time travel's a funny thing," Mick chimed back in. He curled an arm around Len's waist and let the other rest on one of Len's thighs, absently scrunching the kilt in his hand like a cat kneading. "We met that Future You before seeing Today You, but  _after_  all our run-ins ‘round Central the past couple years. And like Lenny said, you were real glad we showed up. Huggin' and holdin' on to us like we'd disappear if you let go. Even stepped up t’help us chase Savage out again. An’ after that, well, you told us all the things you wanted t'say over the years we'd been gone… all the things you always wanted t'do with us."

"We've never been very good at saying 'no' to a pretty face."

"Or a pretty ass."

"Don't forget his hands-"

"And those  _legs_ _!_ Christ, Red- that was before Lenny blew his dumb ass up, so you wore us out, good! Future You, that is."

Barry stared at the two men canoodling on his bed and practically blushing at the memories of the, apparently, very good sex they'd had with the future version of him. He was tempted to run there and grill himself for more details. What they were saying _did_ make their reactions upon seeing him again a couple days ago finally make sense. Where Barry only had his various fantasies to draw from, Len and Mick had actually _been_ with him and were, from their perspectives, looking to rekindle the relationship. …That hadn't happened yet for Barry.

"…Okay. So. You guys hooked up with me- Future Me- and when you got back here, to my- our- present, you thought you could just… pick up with Now Me where you'd left off?" It sounded really stupid when he said it out loud.

"I told you he'd figure it out," Len said smugly. Mick frowned at him and swatted him on the thigh. "What? Barry told us himself that he would remember."

"You ever stop and think how little sense that makes?" Mick's expression and voice were flat.

"Did  _you_?"

" _Yeah_. And I tried t'tell you, but you were so sure everything'd work out and he'd get it right away that I jus' gave up. Figured  _he'd-_ " Mick jerked a thumb at Barry, "talk some sense into you. 'Think some'a your brains got left in the 'stream when you blew up the Time Bastards."

"I gotta agree with Mick on this," Barry put in, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. "I don't know why I would say something like that to you guys, but I can assure you, there's no way that I can remember something I haven't done yet."

"Oh that was just the first time," Len said cheerfully, as though anything he could add to their story would somehow make it all make sense. "We saw you again in 2050, after the Oculus and Savage and all of that. You were  _very_  helpful in letting me practice my time manipulation."

Barry dropped his face into his hands and shook his head- at least that explained how Len knew he could hold three people inside his time fog, when no one else on the Waverider had been aware of his ability. Though instead of details, Barry decided he wanted nothing more than to kick his future self's ass. Cisco had said it before and he was right- Barry was a damn troll, and had managed (or would manage?) to troll himself, from the future. He'd likely never hear the end of that admission once he gave his friend the clean version of this story. And that was a thought he honestly didn't expect to still have, through his anger and resentment. But watching Mick and Len being so… intimate with each other and listening to the way they spoke about Barry- a future version was still technically him- had started to rekindle his longing and desire. Letting loose a rather miserable sigh, Barry looked up at his bed.

"I know I said, back at Ferris Air, that I was up for anything, that I wanted- this-" Barry gestured vaguely at Mick and Len. "But, I'm not  _that_  Barry, Future Barry. I mean, I'm  _really_  into you guys and I want to get to know you and- and all of that stuff. Just.  We're gonna have to take it slow. The- y’know, the... being intimate stuff.”

Barry grimaced at his wording. It was one thing to think about it, to imagine sleeping with both of them, but it was somehow still difficult to actually _talk_ about it. That was a good sign that, as much as he'd enjoyed the attention they'd paid him, he wasn't quite ready for a continuation. _And_ , Barry reminded himself, _I'm still upset- still mad at them._ He needed to know how Mick and Len could say they were so attracted to him, but felt it was okay to leave without a word. “Yeah," he huffed a humorless laugh, pushing thoughts of rejection and being used aside. " _I_  have to take something slow."

"You said you'd say that," Mick spoke softly after a while. He shifted on the bed and Len maneuvered and then climbed off of his lap, letting out an annoyed sound when Mick slapped him on the ass. "Gave me somethin' for you t'listen to, or watch, or something."

Mick slid off the bed and started digging through a bag Barry hadn't noticed under the window. Two sets of boots, a couple shirts and jackets were folded on top of the chest there, as well. Mick crouched on the floor and Barry tilted his head to watch the flex of muscle and scar tissue across Mick's back as he searched. He glanced to his right and smirked when he noticed Len doing the same thing.

With a sound of triumph, Mick stood, his knees popping, and crossed the short distance to hand Barry a small, silver cube. "You press it here," he leaned over slightly and indicated a subtly indented place on one side. "And then hold it away from you a little. Gets kinda bright an' loud, is all- won't burn your face off or nothin'. …I asked."

Barry held back the soft, appreciative noise he almost made at Mick being concerned for him, especially Past (Present?) Barry, who Mick didn't know at all. "Thanks," he said quietly, then louder, "Thank you. I'm gonna- I don't know what I'm- what he's gonna say so I'll just- take this outside? Wait here- you'll be here, right? When I get back?"

He knew he sounded kind of pathetic, but even though he wasn't ready to just jump into bed with them, he didn't want to lose another chance at  _something_  with Mick and Len. Mick stayed by his side, closer than he needed to be. Len slid off the bed and moved to stand opposite Mick, boxing Barry in. He placed his right hand on Barry's shoulder, translucent fingers tracing the delicate strap of the camisole. Mick's left hand settled low on Barry's back, right above the subtle swell of his rear.

"We'll be here," Mick replied, gruff voice sounding more so than usual. Len only nodded and adjusted the strap, patting it in place and letting his fingers drift only to where the lace started before pulling away.

Barry nodded and backed up, appreciating and regretting that Mick didn't let his hand linger as it passed over Barry's butt. He kept both men in his sight as he left the room, only turning around once he'd cleared the threshold. A quick glance around revealed the best place to listen would be the kitchen, as it was closed off on three sides and the entry didn't directly face the bedroom. He hopped up on a counter top, took a deep breath, and pressed the button; his arm shooting out and away from him as far as it would go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Mick and Len's behavior at Ferris Air in Chapter 2 makes sense, now. :)
> 
> You might have read this and thought, "Hey- Len seems more out of character this time around." And you'd be right- per Canon!Len and the version that's been portrayed here so far, this chapter takes a detour. And the best I can do without launching into a brand new series right here is remind you that he _did_ die.
> 
> And add that he was in or a part of the time stream for... a while. He came back with powers, a funky arm and a (slightly?) different personality. I'm a firm believer in experiences like what many of us fan fic writers portray Len going through have changed him, altered who he is and how he behaves. Also, the dynamic that he shares with Mick has shifted and changed, as a result of both of their experiences. The main reason I'm not getting into that is because this series is about Barry, first.
> 
> **Thank you so very much for reading, each and every one of you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A message! From the World of Tomorrow! Barry gives himself a pep talk, sorts through some of his lingering conflicts and things finally get a little more handsy.

The little cube didn't do anything for a second and Barry had enough time to start getting annoyed again at both his future self and the Legends in his bedroom before the very bright image of a man flickered to life above his outstretched arm. It took him an additional couple seconds to recognize himself, even though the person didn't look all that different from him. The fluorescent picture was actually a video and Future Barry fussed with something that wasn't visible- he was only filmed from the shoulders up- and then cleared his throat.

He hadn't thought to ask when the cube had come from- it was probably from their second visit, in the year 2050, which would make the Barry that was about to speak around 60 years old. He barely looked 40, though- there were very fine lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, but he was otherwise unchanged. His hair was a little longer in the front and combed to one side, hanging over his forehead. He was wearing eye-liner, volumizing mascara and a lip color in an indistinct shade of pink- the brightness of the recording made it hard to tell. What was visible of his neck and shoulders displayed a pretty gemstone necklace and split-V, red spaghetti straps. Present Barry was pleased that at least his sense of style hadn't diminished over the years.

"Hey, Barry," the older person said. He winced and then giggled, shoulders hunching. "Geez, that sounds weird, doesn't it? Not the weirdest thing I've done- you'll do- but, still. Okay, okay- Serious Barry. Hi. If you're watching this, Mick and Lenny are back."

Present Barry allowed himself a silent cheer at what he took as permission to use the nickname.

"And they've probably told you some version of what happened, how we- they and me- met. They've been back here in 2050 for about a week, but I know they're not staying. They can't - they're not from this time." Future Barry paused and looked off to one side. He shook his head, expression sad, and then looked back at the camera. "They're from _your_ time. They're going home to _you_. And I know, I know it's gonna seem sudden and weird as hell, but it's- Christ, Barry- they're worth it. And I'm not just talking about the sex- though _fucking hell_ , it is really good sex. They've had a rough go of things, early on and with the Legends. Really awful shit- Cronos and the Oculus… those things've changed them. You- you'll understand, someday, what's going on, what's happened with Lenny. But right now, you can help them. And they can help you."

Present Barry grimaced; he was starting to wonder at what point in the future he'd start swearing so much.

"I can't just _tell_ you certain things, but you've figured out by now, by the time you're watching this, that there's a lot more to those guys than they let on. We've been president of the Lenny Can Change Fan Club since he found out we were the Flash. And Mick…" There was a far-off look in his eyes and his smile was small and so gentle that Present Barry ached for whatever- whoever- could cause it. Future Barry shook his head slowly, focusing on the camera again.

"Oh and before you get all caught up in your head and because I _know_ you're gonna want to ask them- Len was into you before he knew about the dressing up and Mick just needed to know Len was serious and to see your damn pretty face." Future Barry laughed and ran a hand through his hair, revealing a ragged-looking scar under the flop that was on his forehead.

"I looked up some old photos, before making this. Never really forgot, you know? But it was nice to see you again. No, I'm not gonna say anything about this-" He grinned as he tapped the scar before deftly combing his hair back into place. "And Lenny and Mickey don't know how I got it, either. So don't pester them."

"Give them time, be patient and for _fuck's sake_ , go easy on _yourself!_ You're smart, you're funny and you're fucking gorgeous. They'll give you the world- that's right, _give_ , not _steal_ \- if you let them. Now go on and get yourself two _incredibly_ hot guys."

He leaned forward, a hand hovering into view and revealing violet nails, but he pulled back at the last second. With a glance over his shoulder, he leaned closer to the camera, and whispered conspiratorially, "Mick's scars are most sensitive under his arm and low on his hip. You already know Lenny's got a _great_ ass but once you get him going, he's into groping and a little light spanking. I'd, uh, give you more tips, but I know you're not quite ready for them. "

Future Barry bit his bottom lip, eyes scrunching as he held in his laughter. "I _may_ have told them some things about you, about what you'll _remember_ about me. I can't wait to get the memory of the look on Lenny's face when he finds out I got one over on him! See you again in around thirty years- be good!"

With fingers pressed to his lips, Future Barry blew a kiss to the camera and then the image fizzled out. Present Barry sat on the counter, lowering his arm slowly as he stared at the little cube. It was both a lot and very little to take in. Mick and Len had spent weeks with him in the future, on at least two separate occasions, decades apart. And when they'd first shown up there, he'd greeted them warmly- maybe too warmly. But that made sense- he'd been elated to see them again after only one year; he couldn't imagine how badly he'd miss them after twenty! And he didn't ever want to know how that would feel. Barry blew out a long breath, not quite a sigh, and slid back down to the floor. He rolled the cube around in his palm, watched it catch the dim light from the main room and the two lamps he'd left on there. He still didn’t know why they'd left the second time, after the Dominators, but he had a feeling that, when he asked them, he'd be given the truth.

Barry tried not to think about the scar he was going to get; he was worried who else had been hurt worse, to inflict that kind of lasting damage on him. He shook his head, chasing the thought away. He'd meddled enough with time to know to let it go; dwelling on things that hadn't happened yet was no way to live his life. Glancing around the kitchen, he decided to store the cube in the cupboard above the fridge- none of his friends or family were tall enough to reach up there and so wouldn't discover it. He could always move it to his bedroom, later. …When he wasn't preoccupied there. A lot of questions remained, and he had every intention of getting the answers, but that didn't mean he couldn't start to enjoy himself. Laughter bubbled in his chest and escaped as a delighted giggle. Barry pressed his knuckles to his mouth to try and stifle it, but he knew how well sound carried in his apartment.

"Gonna hang out there tittering all night?" Len called from the doorway to Barry's room. Barry leaned around the entry to the kitchen and drank in the sight of Captain Cold wearing nothing but a tank top, kilt and something that might well have been a genuine smile. The expression made his already devastatingly pretty face look years younger.

"You did not just say 'titter'," Barry laughed as he made his way across the room. It felt a lot more like stalking than simply walking and he reveled in the sensation and the hungry look in Len's eyes when he got closer.

"He did," Mick chuckled. "But I bet we can get him t'make the same sound, f'we work together."

"Ooh, Mick Rory- are you suggesting a team-up?" Emboldened by his pep talk from the future and the new knowledge he'd been given about both men, Barry slung an arm low around Len's waist and led him back into the bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind them.

"But you gotta put those on, first." Mick grinned and pointed to the red stilettos that had been removed from their box and set on the rug beside the bed. Len laughed at the accusatory look Barry shot him, still tucked against Barry's side, his own hand possessively resting on Barry's hip.

"Got bored waiting for you, so we did a little exploring."

" _You_ were snooping," Mick corrected.

"I was gone like five minutes!" Barry turned an exasperated smile on Mick, who was settling himself on his side, back on the bed. "You couldn't keep him occupied for a few minutes?"

"Didn't wanna start without you," Mick replied with half a shrug. Len snorted.

"Cute, both of you."

"Not so fun, is it?" Barry squeezed him closer before untangling his arm and slipping free of Len's hand. "People talking about you like you're not there? Taste of your own medicine."

"Mick was doing it, too," Len pointed out, voice bordering on petulant.

"Mick has, weirdly enough, been the voice of reason since you guys got here, so he gets a pass." Barry shared a smug grin with Mick, and then addressed Len, "And you need to get that ass on my bed while I put these shoes on."

It was spoken less like an order and more of a suggestion, an almost questioning note at the end. His grin faltered; just because Mick was able to boss Len around, didn't mean it was alright for Barry to do so.

"Uhm, if that's okay..?" Barry winced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Despite his remaining nerves, he'd wanted to at least pretend to a confidence he didn't really have. It had been a long time since he was intimate with anyone, let alone two men he still barely knew! But he just had to trust in what his future self had said- they'd be worth it and they could all be good for each other.

Len didn't protest or even make a face; he just smirked as he moved over to the bed and took up the position he'd been in when Barry had first discovered him and Mick, stretching out languidly to watch. Barry stared down at the heels for a few seconds, digging through his memories of the lessons Iris had given him regarding walking in shoes that tall. He balanced himself with one hand on the bed as he slipped the stilettos on, and then had to sit to reach the straps and tiny buckles.

"Here." Len stopped him with a hand on his upper arm, causing Barry to crane his neck to look at him over his shoulder. "Let me."

Barry smiled bashfully, ducking his head as he swung his legs up and onto Len's lap. He felt his face and neck heat up as he watched Len's deft, beautiful fingers slide the straps of each shoe into place and secure the first little, gold buckle above Barry's ankle. It was kind of disorienting; glimpsing the shoes and his own legs through Len's right hand, but the gentle touches quickly soothed him. Barry took the time to study that hand- the translucence stopped just below his elbow and bled smoothly up into Len's skin. Edges that looked jagged were softened by the subtle glow that seemed to constantly emanate from the appendage.

Len slid the second buckle into place and arranged Barry's legs beside him, crossing one ankle over the other and trailing a hand up Barry's calf, prickling the stubble there and giving Barry goose bumps. He hadn't had time to shave since before the mess with the Dominators.

"Always were bad at sharing," Mick grumbled. He levered himself up on his knees, leaning over to get his arms around Len and haul his back flush with Mick's chest and stomach. Len reluctantly dragged his fingers away from Barry's legs as Mick snaked one arm around Len's midsection, the other curling possessively around his chest. He set his chin on Len's shoulder and grinned at Barry. "How 'bout a little show, Red. See what those nice pumps can do."

"Okay," Barry said, a note of trepidation in his voice. "But I haven't worn these in a while, so it, uh, might not be very sexy at first."

"Everything about you is effortlessly sexy, Barry." Len assured him. "Don't worry about it."

Barry laughed, more nervous than flattered, and rubbed at his neck, looking down at the floor, at his closet and anywhere but his bed. Mick grunted his agreement as Len stretched a leg out, prodding Barry to get up. Laughing more freely, Barry swatted at the other man's foot and scrambled off the bed. Keeping his audience in mind, he straightened once his shoes hit the floor and he smoothed his top out, sliding his palms down his sides to adjust his shorts, as well. He took a breath and blew it out quickly as he put his right side to the bed and faced the door that lead out into the apartment.

It was a bad idea to keep his eyes on Mick and Len, but he turned his head anyway, enjoying their faces as he started to walk. They followed his every step, glancing along his entire body as he moved across the rug to the hardwood floor, a little unsteady at first, but adjusting quickly to the extra height and narrow heel supports. He made it to the door and turned back towards the bed with confidence. A cocky grin spread across his face as he strode forward again… and caught the toe of one shoe on the edge of the rug. Barry started to put his arms up and forward to brace himself or regain his balance, but he didn't have to. Before he'd tilted even an inch, Len was behind him, stopping time to put hands on his waist and spinning him around and into the older man's arms.

"You weren't kidding," Len chuckled. The now familiar, blue time fog curled around them in thin wisps before fading away.

Barry wanted to say something biting in return, maybe ask Mick to get Len back on the bed, but they were so close, wrapped up in each other, that he couldn't think of any words. He looked down into Len's hauntingly blue eyes (they hadn't been that bright, that clear, before; another side-effect of the timestream, probably) and slightly parted, tantalizingly pink lips. The only thing he could do was lean in for a kiss. Len met him eagerly, bringing his right hand up to cup Barry's jaw, fingers fanning gently along his cheek and the glow within intensifying. Len's lips were chapped and a little rough, but Barry didn't mind. The kiss at the hanger had been sudden and over quicker than he'd liked, so he took the opportunity to explore Len's gorgeous mouth. He tiled his head, changing the angle of the kiss and leaning into Len's palm.

Keeping his hands on Len's waist, Barry pulled away to kiss the corners of his mouth, pausing to softly suck on Len's lower lip between the gentle pecks. He was vaguely aware of Mick moving on the bed and felt him fill the space behind Len as Barry moved on to map Len's jaw with lips and tongue. He kept his kisses light, his lips never lingering for more than a second on the sandpaper stubble under Len's jaw and that peppered his cheeks. Mick hummed and Barry settled to sucking and nurturing a bruise high on Len's neck, under his ear, so he could watch what Mick was up to.

"You sure this's okay?" Mick's voice was full of gravel, his words just louder than a mumble.

Barry laughed, resting his forehead on Len's warm shoulder. "Yeah," he sighed and kissed the hollow of Len's throat. "This is… good." Len hummed appreciatively. The sound was tinged with a noticeable amount of relief, as well.

Mick nosed along Len's other side and asked between surprisingly soft kisses at Len's jaw, "Mentioned a team-up?"

A hand slid between Barry and Len, where their stomachs were pressed tight, dipping beneath the waist of Len's kilt and startling a gasp from him. Warm breath fanned Barry's ear and he grinned, licking the red mark he'd just left and kissing a path to start another. He could feel Mick's hand through the fabric of the kilt, big fingers spreading as his palm slid lower, pulling faint, almost needy sounds from Len.

"Top of the- the nightstand," Len groaned, lolling his head back on Mick's shoulder. "Saw some- lube in there."

"Little ferret," Mick mumbled before biting Len on the shoulder hard enough to indent the skin. He backed away to open the drawer.

"Not the cherry- not the red one." Barry paused in creating a third hickey to catch Mick's eye. "It, uh, stains. Found that out the hard way. The strawberry's nice, but the peach has kind of a chemical smell."

Len grimaced as he called over his shoulder, "Don't wanna smell like strawberries- use the peach one." He gave Barry a look and asked, "Don't you have anything unscented?"

"What would be the fun in that?" Barry smirked in response to Len's glare and held onto his hips tighter before stage whispering, "Mick- grab the strawberry!"

"Read my mind," Mick chuckled. He sidled up behind Len again and dangled the little bottle of dull pink lube over Len's head, shaking it back and forth in front of his face. "For bein' nosy."

"You looked around, too," Len retorted churlishly.

Mick shrugged as he flicked the cap open with his thumb, neither confirming nor denying his involvement. Barry didn't really mind; he was enjoying giving Len a hard time and surprised, too, that he and Mick were being allowed to do so. Dying seemed to have had a kind of freeing effect on Len- his expressions were more open, reactions less guarded. And he didn't appear to mind being crowded on both sides, though Barry and Mick were making the closeness well worth it.

Barry watched Mick pour some of the fluid into his palm, flip the lid back into place and toss the bottle behind him. Mick's arms appeared around Len's waist and he rubbed his hands together, spreading and warming the lube. Barry kept one hand on Len's hip and insinuated the other between Mick and Len, sliding it up Len's lower back and then down as Mick deftly moved into the place he'd vacated moments earlier. Len groaned when Mick's hand found his cock again and Barry took the opportunity to dip his own hand lower, over the kilt, to grab a handful of Len's ass. He squeezed gently as Mick started to move his hand, then harder as Mick picked up speed.

Len's groans became moans that Barry greedily took into his own mouth, kissing the thief nearly breathless, hard and with a demanding tongue. Mick grunted, pulling Barry's attention slowly to him and the desire smoldering in his eyes. The shoes were a fantastic idea, as they gave Barry the extra height needed to press forward and capture Mick's lips with his own. Barry wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but Mick tasted a little like chocolate. His lips were softer than Len's, but just as plush. It was Barry's turn to moan as Mick sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nipped at him. He squeezed Len's ass hard and pulled his hand away to deliver a smack that made Len actually whine.

The thief's hips thrust forward, pressing both himself and Mick's hand into Barry. Barry let out a stuttering sigh, holding Len tighter and rolling his hips to chase the friction. He was well on the way to achingly hard from the show Mick was giving him and both men's kisses. What little thoughts Barry could form swam around Len's warm scent and the pull and rasp of Mick's scars along his skin. Len's right arm was pulsing with blue-green light where it was slung over Barry's shoulder, fingers digging almost painfully into his shoulder blade. The other had been thrown behind him, holding on to Mick's hip like a lifeline as Mick thrust forward, rutting against Barry's hand on Len's ass. Barry reluctantly pried his hand away from Len's hip and walked his fingers around the thief's back, fumbling until he found Mick's cock and palmed him.

Mick's answering grunt was the headiest, most animalistic sound Barry had ever heard and he pressed his hand closer, fingers trying to grip Mick through the fabric. He kissed more noises from Mick's mouth as he tried to keep up with the rhythm both men were setting. It was a little awkward, the motions never quite lining up, but it was enough to make Len come, first. Barry pulled away from Mick to watch Len; he drank in the thief's blown pupils and beautifully euphoric expression. Len's lips parted just enough to reveal a tease of tongue as Mick brought him oh-so gently to completion and Barry had to kiss him again, to memorize the sensations and textures and that look of unfettered joy on his face.

Barry came seconds later, untouched, loud and heedless of the tears dampening his cheeks. He and Len held each other up, balancing almost bonelessly, shoulder to chest. Len turned around to face Mick as Mick pulled his hand free from Len's kilt. Barry slipped along Mick's right side and Len rubbed excess lube from Mick's hands and slipped his right down the front of Mick's kilt. Barry alternated between kissing and tasting each of them and watching Mick's face, settling on studying the latter when it was Mick's turn to climax; his body rigid and mouth hanging open soundlessly. Len laughed freely, delighted, and tugged him through the aftershocks a little bit longer, finally getting a low whine from the big man before he was slapped weakly away.

All three stumbled the few steps to the bed and collapsed in a tangle of limbs, sweaty and spent and smiling like idiots. Barry wiggled and squirmed his way between Mick and Len, slipping one arm under Mick's waist and throwing the other behind him to pull Len flush against his back. It was a tight fit and his post-orgasm mind suggested he look into a king bed, for future adventures. Barry's eyes drifted closed and he grinned lazily as he felt first Len's arms curl around him and then Mick's.

"Told ya we could make 'im twitter," Mick sighed.

Barry hummed, too sated to correct him. He snuggled closer to Mick, rubbing his cheek back and forth over scar tissue and unblemished skin, mapping the difference in both textures.

"Don't you dare pass out before we clean up." Barry heard the smile in Len's raspy voice at his ear and could only respond with a sleepy giggle. He thought about turning his head and kissing Len quiet, but his front door was thrown open and someone stormed into the apartment.

" _Bartholomew Henry Allen,_ " Iris shouted. " _If you aren't already seriously injured, you're about to be!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered bumping the rating up, since there's sexual activity in this chapter. But there was a little in Chapter Two, as well, so maybe this is fine at the rating it is?
> 
> Please let me know if you think I should change that!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry remembers that _one thing_ he forgot to do and everyone manages to have a mostly informative conversation that answers a lot of lingering questions.

The comfortable, warm sensations that were pulling Barry into a hazy pre-sleep were shattered when the front door was slammed. Barry sat upright and flew off the bed at Flash speeds, standing at the door to his bedroom and opening it a crack to peer out into the main room. Iris was behind the couch, arms akimbo and legs braced in what was most likely a fighting stance. It took Barry a moment to figure out what she could possibly be so mad about and when it hit him, he shut the door with a drawn-out groan, sliding to his knees and leaning heavily on the frame.

"We never told you about the Dominators," he told the door.

"Yeah, seems like that was something I should've known," Iris replied. She sounded like she hadn't moved from her position near the sofa.

"Okay, uhm, first of all." Barry started to open the door again, but grimaced as he remembered the state of his outfit. He flashed to his dresser and pulled out a clean cami and shorts set in navy cotton. He quickly cleaned up in the bathroom, changed clothes and then phased through the door. "I'm really, _really_ sorry I didn't tell you about… all of that."

 Iris was sitting on the arm of the sofa and glared at him. She glanced down at his shoes- how he'd managed to flash around and not fall in them was a miracle- and pursed her lips. "I had to hear it on the news, _first_ , and then from a photographer who was at that little award ceremony for everyone."

"I really am sorry, Iris. It just- everything happened so _fast_ and there wasn't really time once the Legends showed up and then the thing with the president…" Barry shook his head and stared down at the thin, red straps of his stilettos. "You're right. I should've told you."

"One phone call, Barr," Iris sighed. "You could've sent a _text!_ As soon as I got back in Central, I went to the Labs- gave Wally and the others an earful. Imagine my surprise when you weren't even there! Ran right back to your place without any kind of communication. …Without letting me know you were okay." She looked up at him, her eyes angry and damp. "They said you were fine, but I've been texting you for hours- I called _twice!_ \- and you didn't answer."

"The whole world knew what was going on," Iris continued after a moment to collect herself. "We heard about the president and there was talk about more abductions, about _heroes fighting each other!_ And I had _no idea_ what was really going on- with my family, my friends. I- you guys just left me in the dark. I was… _terrified_. I didn't know if Wally or you or Cisco and Caitlin were hurt or- or worse!"

"Iris-." Barry reached out, intending to place a reassuring, possibly comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away, shaking her head.

"Remember when I finally found out- when you and Dad and Eddie finally told me you were the Flash?"

Barry nodded, then stopped himself abruptly, the correlation stinging like a slap to the face. Iris set her jaw and nodded once, decisively, before picking up where she'd left off. "All the trouble, the danger I got into that likely would've been avoided if I'd just known what- who you were? What you could do? God, Barry, you're better than this- _we're_ better than this! I wasn't worried about you as a reporter, I was scared for you as your best friend!"

She fell silent, sniffling twice though her eyes remained dry. Barry wished he were that stoic; his lashes stuck together, cheeks tight and tacky from his tears. Iris glanced up at him and sighed, tired but mostly exasperated, now. "I know," she sighed again, shaking her head. "I know you were busy, I get that. I just- there had to be a moment for a text. For you or- or _anyone_ to step aside and shoot me a 'hey, Iris, we're fighting aliens but everyone is okay'."

She laughed, then, and reached out to thumb some of the moisture away from Barry's lashes. "I don't envy you the talk dad's gonna want to have."

"Any chance you can continue this little heart-to-heart later?" Len called from behind the door. Barry winced; Iris had _just_ calmed down, pushed past the anger she'd had every right to! And he really did need to talk to and find a way to make it all up to her.

"Unless you wanna join us," Len added convivially. Barry seriously considered phasing through the entire apartment building, the foundation and into the earth below. He felt his whole body heat up at Len's suggestion, and then immediately go cold when he saw the look on Iris's face.

"You couldn't contact me because you were too busy getting some?" Her voice was entirely too calm as she squinted up at him.

"We didn't-! It's not like that, I swear! They broke in and-."

"That was Snart," Iris interrupted.  She stood and took a step towards the door, a determined set to her jaw, but Barry remained between her and his bedroom. "He said 'us'. Is there-? Who _else_ is in there- is Heatwave with him? What the hell is going on, Barry? Are you-?"

 She moved closer, her irritation suddenly replaced with concern, to whisper, "Did they do something to you? Is Snart blackmailing you?"

Barry's expression must not have been very reassuring because Iris's eyes widened and she stepped into his space, placing her hands gently on his chest as she asked, "Did they- oh my god, did they have something to do with the invasion..?"

" _What? No!_ No, no, no, no, no! They're not- it's fine! Everything is fine and they're- Iris, they're _heroes!_ " He whispered the last word almost reverently. "It's kind of a… long, weird story. We're _not_ sleeping together-" _Yet_ , a sly voice that sounded distinctly like Len added. "But we're- all three of us- kind of together? Not… dating, but, something. We're in the process of being… _something_. Together."

"We _were_." There was a note of annoyance in Len's words. "Until someone interrupted us."

"Hey, c'mere. Let 'em talk it out." Mick's voice was quieter- he was probably still laying down- and Barry could almost hear him coaxing Len back to the bed. He wanted to be back in their arms again, as well, but Iris was his priority.

"Heroes, huh?" She still sounded skeptical as she studied the bedroom door, but her face had softened marginally. "That kiss Snart gave you did look pretty heroic."

"How did you know it was-? I mean, uhm…"

"I'd know your skinny butt anywhere, even in jeans."

"Gonna need a copy of that photo, Iris," Len practically shouted. Barry's shoulders shook from the bewildered laughter he fought to hold back.

"Will you stop- here, _I'll_ pay attention t'ya."

"I'm so sorry," Barry whispered. "About… _that_ -" he gestured at the bedroom with a rueful smile, "and not calling you or checking in. No excuses- that was a- a really crappy thing I did."

"Are you apologizing for what Snart's been saying or for… whatever you guys were doing in there."

"The first one, _definitely_. We had a _great_ time earlier!"

There was a scuffle in the bedroom; a grunt, the soft sound of skin on skin and muffled words bleeding into a moan that was unmistakably Len's.

Without looking at him, Iris reached out and took Barry's hand, leading him away from the bedroom and to the front door. There was a blush high on her cheeks and her smile was a little more intrigued than embarrassed. "So. You owe me an explanation and the whole story- for both the aliens and your 'something' in there. First as your best friend who loves you no matter what and second as a reporter interviewing the Flash, Captain Cold and Heatwave." She paused and grinned up him, wiggling her eyebrows as she added, "Obviously the relationship- or, whatever you guys want to call it- won't make it into the article."

Barry couldn't help but smile at her in response, face warming with his own blush. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door, one arm wrapped around his ribs and the other resting a hand on his shoulder. "You wanna do this now? Can we… maybe wait a little longer? I mean, isn't it too late to get the story in tomorrow's paper?"

"You lucked out there," Iris chuckled. "Brunch. Eleven _on the dot_. Grand Concourse. You and your guys, me, Wally and Eddie. You're paying."

"Okay, yeah. We can do that- _Wally, too?_ Ugh, Iris, the both of us are gonna cost a _fortune!_ "

"Then it's a good thing you have that big ol' inheritance, huh?"

Barry sighed, dropping his head in a defeated nod. "But I uhm, I have to find out when they're-" he jerked a thumb in the direction of the bedroom, "supposed to go back- there's a… time ship and time travel…"

"They can hang around for a free meal and an interview. Try a little harder not to be late tomorrow?"

"I will," he laughed. "Len's pretty punctual- he'll make sure we'll be there."

"'Len'?" She shook her head in wonder and reached for the doorknob. "Have a good night, Barr. …And be careful. You gotta look out for yourself, too."

Barry stayed in the entryway for a few minutes after Iris left. He leaned against the wall and absently nudged his sneakers back onto the mat near the door. He hadn't thought about Mick and Len leaving before he'd mentioned it to Iris, but it had become the only thing cycling through his mind. They'd come back to see him; left the ship and their teammates for an undisclosed amount of time. But they'd return to the Waverider, wouldn't they? They were heroes, _Legends_ \- they had good work to do, now. His future self had said Mick and Len had gone home to him, but he didn't say for how long they'd stay.

 _Best to just enjoy what time we have left_ , Barry sighed to himself. He squared his shoulders and walked back to his room, easing the door open and poking his head in, first. Making sure both men were still there. Mick had moved to the right side of the bed and changed into a pair of boxer briefs, the legs of which extended nearly to his knees. Len wasn't immediately in view and Barry forced himself not to panic; a quick glance around the room revealed that the bathroom door was closed. Light fanned out underneath the crack, interrupted only by the shoe box still resting nearby.

"So, we have to meet Iris for brunch in the morning," Barry began as he lowered himself to the rug in front of his closet. He angled his legs and unfastened the buckles on each shoe before slipping them off and placing them on top of their box. He arranged them so that the pointed toes faced the bed, surveying their job well-done.

"Brunch," Mick scoffed. "Why didn't she jus' say 'lunch'? That's not even a thing."

"You know what brunch is, Mick," Len called from the bathroom. His words were followed by the sounds of the sink turning on and splashing. "Just 'cause you never had it, doesn't mean it's not real."

"You'll be there, right? You can stick around that long? She said eleven and it's at Grand Concorse, so it's kind of fancy-"

"We're not going anywhere." Len stood in the doorway behind him, the vanity lights casting him in soft shadows. "Pretty sure we said we came back for you."

"Yeah, but." Barry gestured helplessly around the room, the motion meaningless and frustrated. "You didn't say if you were staying- how long you were gonna be here. The Legends-"

"Will get on just fine without us," Len cut in. Barry frowned at him for the second interruption.

"We'll stay 'long as you want us to, Red." Mick was perched on the edge of the bed, one arm outstretched invitingly towards Barry. Or Len. Barry took a chance and padded over, relieved when Mick gave him a crooked smile and pulled him sideways onto his lap. Len moved into the room and Barry grinned when he recognized his own pajama bottoms sitting comfortably low on Len's hips; he figured it was unlikely that Len also owned pale pink sleep pants.

Len sat on the bed beside Mick and swung Barry's feet into his lap by the ankles, smoothing his fingers over the tops before digging his thumbs into the arches. Barry sagged in Mick's embrace, fanning his toes and moaning as Len massaged him. He dropped his head to Mick's shoulder while he watched Len work, a look of concentration sharpening the older man's features. It was almost unbearably comfortable; being held and touched so gently, with such warm familiarity. Len knew just where to press, exactly how long to drag fingers and thumbs along Barry's skin to soothe him. If what Mick said and Len had implied was true, they were sensations he would be allowed to get used to.

"Why did you guys go back with the Legends? After the- oh god, _right there_ \- the Dominators?"

The question lingered in the air between them for a while, possibly a few minutes. Barry knew they'd heard him, but was about to ask again, in case they were ignoring it or simply putting off answering, when Mick finally replied, "Still had a mission to finish. Lenny an' me never leave a job 'fore it's done."

"Saving the world again, huh?" Barry flinched away, laughing, from the rasp of Mick's five o'clock shadow against his shoulder.

"That's one way to put it," Len acknowledged quietly. Something passed quickly over his face- a strange, deep sadness and almost longing expression- and his hands stopped their ministrations for a second, two seconds. "Taken care of, now, so we have… all the time in the world, for you."

No further explanation was offered. Len lapsed in silence, his eyes studiously focused on Barry's ankles as his fingers worked over the more delicate tendons in Barry's feet. Something had happened- Barry's future self had admitted and confirmed it- and it was apparently monumental, scarring enough, possibly still fresh, that neither Len nor Mick were willing to elaborate. Mick held him a little tighter, for just a moment, and let his chin rest on Barry's shoulder as he, too, watched Len's beautiful hands dance over Barry's skin. Barry desperately wanted to know what they'd done- what had been done _to_ them- but he knew that prying for details would likely make both men shut down. He had time with them now and he was certain that, eventually, they would be ready to talk.

"So… it must've been pretty important, then," Barry started slowly, trying to find the best way to say what he'd been putting off all night. He paused, turned the words over in his mind, and then decided to just tear the proverbial bandage off. "For you to leave without saying good-bye?"

Mick breathed against his neck, nuzzling him with heart-wrenching gentleness before planting a few kisses along the expanse of bared skin. "Weren't, uh, sure we could…" Mick cleared his throat, the sound uncomfortably loud right next to Barry's ear. "Didn't know if we'd be able to…"

"We weren’t sure we'd be able to go." The words rushed out of Len in a sigh. "If we stopped to see you again."

 "It was hard enough leavin' you in- the future," Mick added softly, punctuating the statement with another kiss. "Pretty sure we couldn't do it again."

Barry wasn't sure what to do with that information, with their painfully honest answers. And it _was_ honesty, wasn't it? They weren't just telling him what they thought he wanted to hear? Because it was nice- oh, it was indescribably touching- to believe the only reason Mick and Len hadn't said anything to him before taking off was that they would miss him too much. That they would be unable to leave if they saw him even one more time. The only thing they had to gain by lying would be quick and easy forgiveness- something Barry had been ready to give even before Iris had shown up.

The level of emotion expressed, though, spoke more to truth than fabrication. Mick had started to choke up; Len spoke quickly just to get through it. Barry was tired of second guesses and uncertainty- his future self had told him these men were worth it, that they would all make each other happy. This time, trust was much easier to give.

"So did you leave in the middle of a mission, or..?" Barry flexed his toes, delighting in the way Len's fingers slotted easily between them.

Len cupped Barry's heel in his right hand, the glow flaring and answering sparks dancing across Barry's skin. Len grinned and bent over, breathing a question along the top of Barry's calf, "Why d'you ask?"

"Well, the kilts, I guess? Were you guys in Scotland or Ireland..?"

"Nope," Mick answered, his grin wide and knowing. "Had Gideon make 'em special for you."

"Figured actions might speak a little louder than words," Len added. He released Barry's feet and slid his hands up Barry's legs, fingers fanning over his knees and curling to touch the soft, ticklish skin below. "Wanted to show you we like you. Just the way you are."

Len couldn't look away fast enough to hide his blush and shy, boyish smile. And it took every last bit of willpower for Barry not to cry all over again; he didn't think anyone had ever said nor done something so sweet for him before. He reached out and took Len's face in his hands, palms molding to the other man's jaw and pulling him closer as Barry leaned forward. Mick kept him steady, making the little humming-grunting sound Barry was falling in love with as Barry's lips met Len's.

They crowded together on the bed- Barry in the middle with Mick on his left and Len to the right- and Barry set two alarms to better guarantee they would all wake up on time. It couldn't have been very comfortable for either of the other men, squished against Barry and limbs tangled, but it was the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time. His dreams were strange and the details elusive by the time he hauled himself out of bed with the second alarm, but he recalled living in a lavish apartment with Len and Mick, loving each other while the world outside went to hell.

Contrary to what Barry had told Iris, Len was the last one out of bed. Mick huddled against Barry in the furthest corner of the kitchen and, over several bowls of cereal, quietly told him a little more about Len's death and return. It was Len's story, Mick said, he wouldn't tell it all, but he wanted Barry to understand that Len was… different. And that he would likely never be the way he was, again. So Mick was doing the looking out for the both of them, now- for the three of them, if Barry wanted.

"We'll work it out." Barry assured him with a kiss to Mick's cheek. "We'll find a- a rhythm and we'll all help each other. Partners."

"Partners," Mick chuckled. He clapped Barry on the back, hard, and used the hand to pull him in close for a kiss that was better suited for the bedroom… and when they had more time to enjoy what it promised.

Barry had two outfits in mind and spent minutes they didn't really have agonizing over both. He'd mastered the art of speed shaving his legs and had done so after talking with Mick in the kitchen (he didn't take such chances with his face- no matter how quickly he healed, he was still squeamish about cuts so close to his eyes). He wanted to wear a dress, but the weather was also nice enough for the high-waist shorts he'd recently purchased. Mick insisted he go with the rockabilly dress and the red stilettos, but Barry declined the latter; they were probably going to be late and he couldn't run in those shoes. He slipped into a pair of black, sequined low top sneakers and perched impatiently on the arm of the sofa while Len and Mick finished getting dressed. _If this is what it's like being ready early, I'm gonna stick to late!_

Len had stopped time at some point to launder his and Mick's kilts (but not, Barry noted, to get ready any faster), since they didn't bring other clothes. They'd been created from artificial fibers and were therefore easy to just throw into the washer and dryer. Barry found one of his "work" shirts that fit Len (and matched the kilt- "Matching is important, Len"), but Mick had to wear his usual Henley.

After a glance in his bedroom mirror and quick touch-up of eyeliner and tea rose-colored lipstick, Barry raced first Len and then Mick to the restaurant. They were exactly one minute early, by Eddie's watch. A new record to start a new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Concourse is a restaurant in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I've been a couple times and it's swank-fancy. I didn't feel like making a place up so I went with one of the nicest places I've ever been.
> 
> [Here's a nice picture I threw together of Barry's brunch outfit.](http://tobyaudax.tumblr.com/post/172056355661/rockabilly-dress-rose-coloured-lipstick-and-black) ...I neglected to dig up kilt pictures, but I'm sure everyone knows what kilts look like. And, well, some kind soul or souls could just draw some fan art of Len and Mick in the kilts... :)
> 
> This is it, everyone! I seriously can't thank my co-creators and tumblr readers enough for inspiring me and keeping me motivated! And I can't thank _you readers_ enough, either! Every comment is a treasure and every kudos buoys my spirits! Thank you, to each and every single person who read and enjoyed! I wish there were a way for you to leave a kudos on every chapter- maybe the future holds such wonders!
> 
> I'd also just like to say, while I'm wrapping this up, that it's 100% okay if you don't leave a comment on this or any of my fics! I understand that it's not easy to find words sometimes (boy, do I understand that!) and that as long as you enjoy what I've written, I've done a good job. So a sincere, special "Thank you!" to everyone that liked/loved this little adventure, but couldn't leave a comment. I appreciate that you took the time to read at all! (I know it's difficult sometimes to read tone in text, but I assure you I'm **not** being sarcastic here- I legitimately don't mind if you don't comment!)
> 
> Thanks again [blue_wonderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_wonderer/pseuds/blue_wonderer), [Nixie_DeAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/pseuds/Nixie_DeAngel), and [TheRedHarlequin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHarlequin/pseuds/TheRedHarlequin). Special thanks to my pep squad [Sophia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/pseuds/SophiaCatherine), [Louis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparroet/pseuds/Sparroet) and [Dave](http://curvyrainbowboi.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And thank _you_ , each and every single one of you fantastic readers!


End file.
